A Little More Time
by gammadolphin
Summary: When the Doctor told the TARDIS to take him where he needed to go, he was not expecting to be deposited in the path of a lonely hunter who had just lost everything. But the Doctor takes it upon himself to give Dean the only thing that could bring him comfort: time with the little brother has has just lost. Set after Swan Song.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:**__I am a sucker for crossovers, so I thought I'd write one. This is set right before Dean gets to Lisa's house. For the Doctor, it is during that in-between time when the Ponds have stopped traveling with him regularly. Enjoy!_

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters.  
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A Little More Time

"Goodbye, Ponds!" said the Doctor, almost managing to sound cheerful as he dropped his friends off in the house that he had given them. He knew that he would see them again, but he always hated saying farewell to them. He hated knowing that they were slowly edging him out of their lives.

He waved one last time at Amy, and then pulled the TARDIS door shut and sauntered back to the console. His fingers glided over the controls, and he frowned slightly. All of time and space before him, but he could not for the life of him think of one place he wanted to go next. He leaned in closer.

"How about a surprise then, Dear?" he asked the TARDIS. "Where would _you_ like to go this time?"

The console hummed to life, and the Doctor smiled, holding on with a laugh as the floor bucked beneath him and they began to hurtle through time and space. The trip was surprisingly short, and they soon landed with a jarring thump. As usual, the Doctor did not bother to check the displays to see where they were; he simply dashed to the doors and threw them open, looking out with excitement. The only thing he had time to register was that he was on earth, around the same time as he had just left, and it was nighttime. Then he heard the squeal of tires and a loud curse, and looked up to see the blinding glare of headlights coming directly for him.

"What the hell are you trying to do, get yourself killed?" shouted an angry voice. The human that it belonged to had just climbed out of a black car, a '67 impala, unless he was quite mistaken. He had seen a lot of them during his exile on earth. They were good cars, though he was biased towards Bessie, his personal car. He still missed her occasionally. The driver appeared to be a man in his thirties, good looking by human standards, but something about him seemed different. "Hey! I asked what you were doing in the middle of the road."

"So you did. And I would give you an answer, but I don't really have one that would satisfy you," the Doctor replied.

"But are you alright?"

"Oh yes, quite fine. You must have very good reflexes, which is nice for me, because I don't really fancy getting hit by cars. It's really rather uncomfortable."

The man stared at him, and the Doctor stared right back. There really was something about him, something that the timelord could not quite put his finger on. But aside from that, there was a tremendous sadness in his eyes, unusual for one so young.

"Are _you_ alright?" the Doctor asked gently.

The other man opened his mouth, looking ready to spout some offhand reassurance. But then his face changed and his breath hitched, and he answered honestly.

"No. No, I'm not. Would you mind moving your…police box, out of the road, so I can get to where I'm going?"

"I will, if you tell me what's wrong."

"Why do you care?"

"I'm the Doctor, it's my job to care. At least tell me your name."

"I'm Dean. Dean Winchester."

"What happened to you, Dean Winchester? What's given you eyes as old as mine?"

The man stared at him. It had been a long time since the Doctor had seen someone so broken, except for when he looked in the mirror. Evidently Dean decided that it was not worth getting into an argument over.

"I lost my brothers," he choked out. "They're gone. They're burning in hell, and I'm never going to see them again. That good enough for you? Can I go now?"

"What makes you think you're brothers are in hell, Dean?" asked the Doctor. He was rarely one to argue with religion, but he had never seen any evidence that there was a hell, or any other kind of life after death, and he did not want this man to torture himself over nothing. But Dean's next words surprised him.

"Well, it might have had something to do with the fact that I watched my little brother open the door to hell and jump in," he said with biting sarcasm, clearly not expecting the timelord to believe him.

The Doctor gazed searchingly at Dean. He saw no trace of madness in the man's eyes. But surely what he was saying was impossible. Then again, the TARDIS had brought him here for a reason, and maybe that reason was to have his world expanded just a little more.

"Well, I'm an alien," said the Doctor. He had meant to throw Dean off balance, to distract him from his obvious grief. He succeeded.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm a timelord. Over a thousand years old. I've even got two hearts, which I think is pretty cool."

"You're insane," Dean told him bluntly.

"Probably, but I'm not lying. Hang on, I can show you proof."

The Doctor fished around in his pockets for a moment, before pulling out his stethoscope. He handed the headpiece to a bewildered Dean, and pressed the metal disc against his chest. When he was sure that Dean had heard one of his hearts, he slid the device over to the other one. Dean's eyebrows rose.

"Okay," he said, pulling the stethoscope from his ears. "You've got two hearts. That just proves you're not human. It doesn't mean you're an alien."

"What else would I be?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure that there are some monsters out there with two hearts. Look man, normally I would be trying to figure out a way to take you out, but right now I just don't care. You're not trying to hurt anyone, and I'm not hunting anymore. So can we please just call it even and go our separate ways?"

The Doctor was not sure what that meant, but clearly this man was different. He must have seen some things that would surprise even the ancient timelord. The Doctor pushed open the door of the TARDIS and motioned for Dean to follow him inside. After a moment of hesitation, the man complied.

"Dean Winchester, meet the TARDIS. Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. My very own time machine from another galaxy."

Dean stared around silently, the grief on his face giving way slightly. He glanced back outside, checking to make sure that the police box really was as small as it appeared. The Doctor smiled, waiting anxiously for those wonderful words.

"This looks like the set of a made-for-TV sci-fi movie."

The Doctor's face fell into a dissatisfied frown.

"You're supposed to say 'it's bigger on the inside'," he told Dean grumpily.

"Well, duh. Anyone with eyes can see that. So I guess you really are an alien."

"You don't sound surprised."

"I guess I've seen too much to be surprised by anything."

"Now that I don't believe. Because I have seen so very very much. And I can tell you that there is always something out there to surprise you."

"Yeah? Well if there is, you and your time machine ain't it."

"Hmph. Well…you're not that impressive either."

"Yeah, thanks Doc. Well, unless you're planning on abducting me, would you mind moving your TARDIS out of the road? I have somewhere to be."

But the Doctor could not let him go, not when the agony was still so clear in Dean's ancient eyes. He had to do something to alleviate some of that pain.

"What really happened to your brothers, Dean?" he asked. The young man had said they were in hell, but that could have been metaphorical. He needed some specifics. "There might be something I can do to help them."

"I wish that they had just died," said Dean bitterly. "I would still miss Sam, but at least I would know that he and Adam were in heaven. I mean it's a little shady up there, but it is so much better than what they got."

"What happened to them Dean?"

The Doctor hated to keep pressing, because he could see how much pain the young man was in, but he had to know the truth. Because maybe then he could help.

"It doesn't matter. I can't help them. I have looked through every single possible option, but there is nothing. I can't do anything for them."

"But maybe I can. I have a really rather powerful machine. There's not a lot she can't do."

"Yeah? Can she pull two people out of the deepest, most well-guarded pit of hell?" Dean asked, clearly not expecting an affirmative answer.

"Hell?" he repeated. "You mean an actual, physical location?"

"Yeah, I didn't think so," said Dean, turning away.

"Dean, wait!" shouted the Doctor. If there really was a hell, and Dean's brothers really were in it, there was nothing he could do for them. But maybe there was something he could do for Dean. "Maybe I can't give you your brothers back, but I can give you time with them."

"What do you mean?"

"I told you this was a time machine. I can take you to any moment in your brothers' pasts. You'll be able to see them again, one last time. It's not a solution, but it may help to give you closure."

"Closure? They're still going to be in constant agony for eternity."

"Maybe, but there's no reason for you to be as well."

"I deserve it as much as they do."

"They can't deserve it much then."

"No, they don't. Look Doc, I appreciate that you're trying to help, but there's a reason I'm beating myself up over this, and that reason is that I'm responsible. And I know enough about time travel to understand that there's nothing you can do to fix that."

"So you don't want to see them again?"

"I didn't say that." Dean looked longingly at the console. "I…I do want to see Sam. Just one more time. Adam too, I guess. You'd really do that for me?"

ooooooooooooooooo

"I'll be damned. It really is a time machine."

"You sound surprised. Did you think I was lying to you?"

"No, it's just that the other times I've been time travelling, it was always an angel using his mojo, not a machine. I guess the idea of a payphone being able to travel through time and space just seemed a little hard to believe."

"It's not a payphone," said the Doctor rather indignantly. "It says 'free', very clearly on the side. And it's not even a real phone."

"Sorry," said Dean, raising his hands in surrender. "Either way, it works."

"Yes, it does. We're here. Are you ready?"

Dean sucked in a deep breath. He did not look ready at all, but he squared his shoulders and nodded. The Doctor pushed the TARDIS doors open, then stepped back to allow Dean to go through first.

They had materialized in what looked like the tiled hallway of a school gymnasium or auditorium. They could hear the notes of graduation processional music through a set of doors that had been propped open for ventilation. Dean walked slowly towards the music, the Doctor following. They found themselves in the back of a packed auditorium, watching hundreds of graduates file onto the stage. Dean searched the crowd of teenagers anxiously, before his eyes locked onto one of them and filled with an impossible combination of joy and sadness.

"There he is," Dean said, pointing out one of the boys to the Doctor. "That's Sammy."

"My, he's rather tall, isn't he?" said the Doctor, following Dean's gaze. "He must always have an incredible view."

Dean chuckled.

"Yeah, you know he was a shrimp for the longest time. I towered over him. But as soon as he turned seventeen, he just shot up, wouldn't stop growing. He's in that gawky stage now where he's not used to all that height. I remember he was always tripping over things…"

The Doctor glanced back at Dean, noting the nostalgia and pain in his voice. He wondered once again whether or not he was doing the right thing here. It would not help the man to be forever stuck in the past, unable to move on from his brother's death.

"Where are you, Dean?" he asked eventually as the principal of the school got up to make his introductory speech.

"Excuse me?"

"The version of you that goes along with this time. It's your little brother's high school graduation. That seems like kind of a big deal. Why aren't you here?"

Dean looked away and snorted bitterly.

"I was on a hunt," he admitted. "A chupacabra, I think. I let my dad talk me into it. He even wanted to make Sam skip this ceremony, but we both drew the line at that. So we left him here alone. We were always putting the job ahead of Sam."

"You shouldn't be too hard on yourself Dean," the Doctor told him gently. "I can't imagine Sam would have wanted that. Besides, you're here now."

"Yeah," muttered Dean, staring back at the stage. "Thank you for this, Doc. It…it means more than I can tell you to be here for him."

"I think I understand," the Doctor replied softly.

They were both silent for a moment, listening to the rest of the speech. When the principal had finished, she introduced the valedictorian, who would be giving another speech.

Sam Winchester.

The Doctor heard Dean pull in a sharp gasp of shock, and glanced over at the hunter.

"You didn't know?" he asked.

Dean shook his head, staring with pride at his little brother as the young man walked across the stage to the podium.

"He never told me," whispered Dean. "No wonder he wanted me to come."

Sam searched the crowd nervously before he began. He looked towards their corner of the auditorium and seemed to do a double take when he caught sight of Dean. The older Winchester gave his brother a proud, albeit slightly tearful smile, which Sam returned before launching into a really rather excellent speech. The Doctor listened in silence, knowing that he was hearing an impressive young man.

"So yes," finished Sam. "This is the end of something remarkable. We will never again be the community that we are now. We will go our separate ways, and some of us will never see each other again. But this is more than an end. It is an opportunity for more, an opportunity to join new communities and forge new relationships, to take chances we never dreamed of and follow paths we have hardly dared to hope for. This is the time in our lives when we stop thinking about changing the world, and start doing it. We all only have one lifetime to make a difference. So let's make it a good one."

Dean and the Doctor burst into furious applause as soon as Sam had finished speaking. The young man's eyes did not leave Dean's until he had to step down from the podium and head back to his seat.

"He didn't get it," said Dean sadly as they watched the first of the students collect their diplomas.

"What are you talking about?" asked the Doctor. "I thought he did an excellent job on the speech, and keep in mind I've met Shakespeare, so my standards are pretty high."

"What? Oh no, that's not what I meant," said Dean quickly. "Sammy rocked that speech. I meant that he didn't get to have those new relationships, or that path he dreamed of. All he wanted out of life was a job as a lawyer and a nice family. And he would have had it too, but the universe screwed him over."

"I'm sorry," the Doctor told him, knowing that there was nothing else he could say that would make the hunter feel better.

"Yeah, me too. But you know what? He did change the world for the better. He saved hundreds, maybe even thousands of people as a hunter, and he saved all of them when he beat the Devil."

"He sounds like a great man," said the Doctor softly. He meant it too. He had met so many people in his lifetime, and Sam Winchester sounded like one that would have stood out among them.

"Yeah, he was."

They waited in silence for a moment, but then the rest of the Doctor's words seemed to sink in for Dean.

"You've met _Shakespeare_?" he asked incredulously.

The Doctor grinned.

"Oh yes. Brilliant fellow. He was a bit full of himself, but then, he was Shakespeare, so he could afford to be."

Dean chuckled in disbelief.

"Doc, you are nine kinds of crazy," he said, but the Doctor could hear the warmth in his voice. "Sammy would have liked you."

"I'm sure I would like him too," said the Doctor.

The conversation lapsed again and the two of them watched as more and more students received their diplomas, until finally Sam's name was called. As the young man rose from his seat and began to cross the stage, Dean and the Doctor shot to their feet, applauding wildly. Dean gave a whistle so loud that it hurt the Doctor's ear. Sam looked back at them, shooting Dean an appreciative, if slightly embarrassed smile. He also spared a confused glance for the Doctor, probably wondering why the strange man was giving him a standing ovation.

When the ceremony was finally over, Dean immediately began to cut through the crowd towards the stage, the Doctor following a few paces behind. Sam's height turned out to be a good thing, because it made him easy to spot in the throng of people. The Doctor slowed down as they approached the young man, giving the two Winchesters a bit of privacy.

As soon as he was close enough, Dean pulled his little brother into a tight hug.

"Congratulations Sammy," he said when he let go.

"I can't believe you're here," laughed Sam.

"Of course I'm here. You didn't think I'd miss watching all of your geeky studying pay off, did you?" replied Dean through the suffocating lump in his throat.

Sam just smiled wider. He did not bother asking about their father, they both knew that he was not there.

"I'm serious Sam," said Dean, catching one of his brother's shoulders and looking him in the eye. "I am so proud of you. I always have been."

Now it looked as though Sam was fighting back tears of his own.

"Thanks Dean," he whispered. "Are you alright man? You seem…different. Older. Did something happen that I should know about?"

"I'm fine Sammy. Everything's fine." _Except for the fact that Dean's entire world had collapsed around him, vanishing into the ground in that cemetery in Lawrence. Except for the fact that he was facing an eternity without Sam._ "Listen, I just want you to know…even when it feels like I turned my back on you, or given up on you, or anything like that, know that it's not true. You will always be the most important thing to me, ever. Promise me you won't forget that."

Sam stared at him. When he realized that his brother was serious, he replied,

"Yeah, of course Dean. You know that goes both ways, right?"

Dean pulled Sam into another hug, knowing that it was time to go. He closed his eyes, a few silent tears escaping his closed lids and trailing down his face into his little brother's long hair. He felt a rush of jealousy for his twenty-two year old self, who was currently two states over, getting his ass kicked by a chupacabra. That Dean still had time with Sam.

"Yeah, I know," he said gruffly. There was one more thing he had to say, the thing that they never said, but really should have. "I-I love you, little brother."

He pulled away, ruffling Sam's hair and giving him a watery smile. The teenager looked worried, clearly aware that something was very wrong, but Dean did not give him the chance to ask about it. He just turned and disappeared into the crowd, heading back to the TARDIS and the mysterious Doctor.

Sam called out to Dean, trying to follow him, but the Doctor stepped into his path.

"Let him go, Sam," he said gently. "You'll see him again soon."

"Who are you?" asked the teenager suspiciously.

"Oh, I'm nobody important, just a friend of Dean's. I was just giving him a lift here."

"Oh. Well then thank you, I guess." He extended a hand. "I'm Sam. What's your name?"

"Call me the Doctor," the timelord replied, taking Sam's hand and shaking it energetically. "Listen, I just wanted to give you some advice, for what it's worth. I've been around a bit, you see, so I suppose I'm qualified."

"Okay…"

The Doctor leaned closer.

"Learn as if you will live forever. Live as if you will die tomorrow."

"Isn't that a quote from Gandhi?"

"Yep," said the Doctor with a smile. "Great man, Gandhi. He always beat me at staring contests. Anyway, why make up new advice when you don't have to? But I will tell you this; have fun. Do that for me, eh? Just live a good life, Sam Winchester. And take care of that brother of yours."

With that, the Doctor spun around and departed. He did not even bother asking Dean if he was okay when he came back into the TARDIS. The tears snaking down the other man's face were indication enough. So he turned away, giving Dean the privacy to pull himself together.

"What about your other brother?" the Doctor asked when he was sure that the hunter was composed. "When would you like to go in his life?"

Dean sighed.

"Yeah, Adam. The thing is, Doc, I never really knew Adam. I didn't even know he existed until he was already dead. So it's not like I can go be there for him, because he won't know who I am. I think the best thing I can do for him is let him have those nineteen normal years with his mom."

"Alright; as long as you're sure."

"Yeah. But there is one last stop I'd like to make, if it's alright Doctor."

"What's that?"

"There's something I want to get."

ooooooooooooooooo

"So you died here?"

"Yep. Shot by a couple of hunters. I guess we should have been expecting it. We did start the apocalypse, after all."

Dean looked sharply at the Doctor, seeming to dare him to criticize. As if the Doctor could possibly look down on Dean after everything that he himself had done.

"Anyway," continued Dean after a pause, "we went to heaven and…I don't know. I realize now that Zachariah was probably pulling the strings, trying to screw with our heads and push us apart so that we would say yes, but at the time, all I could think was that Sam had never wanted to be a part of the family, never cared as much about me as I did him. I just felt so betrayed, and I threw away the amulet that he gave me when we were kids. God, he must have felt like I was throwing _him_ away."

Dean trailed off, his eyes misty as he got lost in the memory. Then he shook himself and bent down to reach into the trashcan by the door. Confusion overtook his face as he rummaged through it. Eventually he just overturned it, dumping the contents onto the floor.

"It's not here," Dean said finally, glancing up at the Doctor. The timelord coughed uncomfortably.

"That may be my fault," he admitted. "I have been known to land on the wrong day. Or year. But I'm positive that we're in the right decade."

"No, it's the right day," said Dean. "Look, there's still blood on the sheets from when we got shot. And all the other trash is here. I remember eating at the diner that this receipt is from."

In that case, the Doctor suspected that he knew what had happened, but he wanted to let Dean arrive at the conclusion on his own. He watched as realization dawned on the hunter's face.

"Oh, Sammy," Dean whispered, the pain in his face growing more pronounced. "He fished it out of the trash, didn't he? Even after everything that I said to him, after I threw our relationship back in his face, he still kept it."

Dean stood. The Doctor could tell that he was fighting against tears again, but it was a fight that he was loosing.

"I'm sorry Dean," he said again. It felt as useless as the last time he had said it.

"No. Don't be. It means he still has it. Wherever he is, whatever he's going through, he still has the amulet with him. I'd rather he had it than I did."

ooooooooooooooooo

"You're sure there's nowhere else I can take you?" asked the Doctor after they had landed in the same spot they had met. "There's so much to see out there. I could take you anywhere."

Maybe enough travelling, seeing enough amazing sights, would ease some of the agony from the young man's eyes. Dean gazed thoughtfully around the TARDIS, before grimacing ruefully, and the Doctor knew what his answer was going to be.

"Thanks for the offer, Doc," he said, "really. But…I've gotta stop running sometime, right? Sam wanted me to have a normal life, so that's what I'm gonna do. I think there's a great woman and kid waiting for me out there. And you know what? I'm tired of travelling. It's time to settle down."

The Doctor smiled at him. He admired the hunter's strength. Sometimes he wished that he had the courage to stop running from his loss.

He whirled around and swiped a sticky note from the console, and handed it to Dean.

"In case you change your mind," he said.

"Thanks," said Dean with a tiny smile as he glanced down at the Doctor's phone number. "And if you ever need anything, you come and get me, you understand?"

"Yes, sir," said the Doctor.

He watched sadly as Dean squared his shoulders and walked out of the door. He knew that the young man was strong, that he would be all right, but he sure had a long, painful road ahead of him.

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**_A/N: _**_Thank you for reading! I will be adding a new chapter/epilogue sometime soon. Please review!_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:** Hello, and welcome to the next installment of my superwho story. It got a little longer than I expected, so there is going to be another chapter after this. I hope you like it!_

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**A Little More Time**

**Chapter 2**

It was years before the Doctor remembered his promise to Dean Winchester. He thought of the hunter occasionally, even considered popping in to check on him once or twice, but as time wore on, Dean faded in his memory. But then the timelord lost his two closest friends, and with them all of his passion for life and traveling. In his grief, his soul-devouring, mindless grief, he remembered the man he had met years ago, and the loss that he had helped him through. Maybe by now, Dean had figured out how to move on after his brothers' deaths. Maybe now he could tell the Doctor how it was done.

He programmed the TARDIS to find Dean Winchester, holding on as the phonebox rattled and crashed her way through the time vortex, but taking none of the usual pleasure from the ride. It just reminded him of the people who would never experience it again. When he finally arrived, he was startled to find himself not facing a nice, normal human house like he had been expecting, but instead a rather rundown motel. Dean must have been traveling, though he had said he lost his taste for it.

The Doctor walked slowly up to the closest door. He raised his hand to knock, not quite sure what he was planning to say, when the door swung open to reveal a tall, dark haired man who was most definitely not Dean Winchester.

"Oh, sorry," said the Doctor dully, beginning to turn away. "I must have the wrong…"

But something was nagging at the back of his mind, and when he looked up to examine the stranger more closely, the connection fell into place. He gaped at the man in astonishment.

"Can I help you?" asked the man who was most definitely Sam Winchester.

"You're not dead," was all that the Doctor could manage to get out in reply.

"Yeah, and neither are you," said Sam with a small smile, though his eyes were cautious. "It makes having this conversation easier."

"You're Sam Winchester, and you're not dead."

"Who…?" Sam stared at him more closely, recognition and disbelief dawning on his features. "Wait, we've met before. You…you were at my high school graduation. The Doctor, right?"

"You remember me." The Doctor was surprised. While he did tend to make an impression wherever he went, he did not think that he had been significant enough to Sam for the young man to remember him.

"You were sitting with my brother," said Sam, becoming more animated as the memory returned, "and then you came up and gave me a Gandhi quote, told me to be happy. When I asked Dean later who you were, he had no idea who I was talking about. He said he didn't even go to the graduation. I thought I was going nuts, but it was real, wasn't it? You were both there?"

"Yes." The Doctor did not feel like explaining beyond that. "Where's your brother, Sam? I need to talk to him."

Sam's face fell, and in it the Doctor could see the same ocean of grief that Dean had been drowning in when the two of them had met, and suddenly he knew what was coming. He wanted to flee again, to block his ears and hum like a child so that he could not hear the next words from Sam Winchester's mouth. But there was no time.

"He's dead," said Sam softly. "Has been for about a month."

No. The Doctor turned away, the mystery of Sam's resurrection forgotten in the new flood of sadness. True, he had not known Dean for very long, but he had found a kindred spirit in the hunter, and his loss, on top of the loss of Amy and Rory, was just too much. The Doctor could feel himself shutting down, throwing up walls around both of his hearts, desperate to protect them from further devastation. He ignored Sam's voice from behind him, practically sprinting back to the TARDIS and slamming the door shut behind him. He was desperate to run, but this time he would be running away from everything, not to it.

ooooooooooooooooo

Many more years passed for the Doctor, years of darkness and solitude and bitterness and grief. He often though about the Winchesters, sometimes regretting that he had not at least stayed to ask Sam how he had made it out of hell and his brother had died. Usually though, he was too angry and disgusted with the universe to care.

But then the Doctor met the impossible girl, and she drew him out of his darkness. As he travelled with Clara, recovering further and further, the mystery of the Winchester brothers plagued him more and more. He lived to discover, to understand new things, and Sam Winchester was a loose end, an unknown. The Doctor already had a mind-bending puzzle in Clara, and he did not like having one in Sam as well, and the memory of the depth of the young man's sadness ate at him.

One day the Doctor could not bear not knowing anymore. He had dropped Clara off at her house the day before, with the promise to meet her next week for their usual appointment. He normally used the time between her visits to dig into her past, to try and find out how she had managed to live three lives, two of which she remembered nothing of. But this time, he decided to go and figure out how someone else had come back from the dead.

He aimed for the day that he had met Sam, outside that motel. He was somewhat surprised when he landed to find that he really had gotten the timing right. The TARDIS must have liked Sam as well. He opened the door to see Sam standing in the doorway where he had left him, staring at the Doctor incredulously.

"Hello again," said the Doctor cheerfully. "Sorry I was a bit rude. I was…dealing with some things. But I'm back now, and I have a few questions."

"Yeah, you're not the only one," said Sam. The Doctor saw his hand twitch towards his waist, and suspected that the younger man had reached for a gun that he no longer carried. "Who are you? Or I guess I should be asking what are you?"

"I'm a time traveler." The Doctor waited for the usual disbelieving look.

"Are you an angel?"

The Doctor blinked. The memory of his last encounter with angels was still painful, despite the years that had passed.

"I'm a timelord," he told Sam. "An alien to you, but then you're an alien to me. I've got a time machine, not wings. I met your brother after you had gone to hell. I took him back to your graduation, because he had missed it the first time 'round. But you're not in hell anymore! How did you get out?"

Sam gazed at the Doctor appraisingly, and then shrugged, stepping back and gesturing for him to come inside. The two of them sat in rickety wooden chairs at the table in the motel room. Sam remained silent, his obvious grief reminding the Doctor of the other reason he had come back.

"What happened to your brother, Sam?" he asked gently. "How did Dean die?"

"He and a friend of ours were killed when they took out the leader of these monsters called leviathans," Sam replied, rubbing a hand across his face but still not managing to hide the guilt written there.

Leviathans. The Doctor remembered tales of them, the monsters from before the era of humanity. They had been eliminated, only to rise again, no one was quite sure how, in 2011. According to legend, the leviathans had nearly subjugated the human race to use them for food, but a year after their release, a small team of people took out Dick Roman, the leader of the monsters, and the rest of them dissolved into chaos. Dean must have been on the team that killed Roman.

"I'm sorry, Sam," said the Doctor. And he was. He had very much liked Dean. It seemed just like him to sacrifice himself to save the world. And now the Doctor owed the brave hunter's brother a better explanation. "I met Dean right after you died. He was on his way to a woman's house to settle down. It's not really in my nature to walk away from sadness and pain as deep as what I could see in him, so I did what I could to help him, and that happened to be taking him back to see you. I believe he thought he had failed you that day, and wanted to make it up to you."

Sam scrubbed his hand across his face again, and the Doctor could see the exact replica of the agony that had been in Dean's eyes all those years ago. Pain that in Dean's case had obviously been unnecessary.

"But you're alive, Sam. Would you mind telling me how? Dean seemed very certain of your death."

Sam seemed to shake himself out of the memory that he had clearly fallen into.

"Uh, yeah. I was dead, or in hell at least. But that friend I mentioned earlier, Castiel, was an angel. He pulled my body out pretty quickly after I went down. Except, he wasn't powerful enough to get me out completely. My soul was still trapped.

"Your body was walking around without a soul?" asked the Doctor, horrified. Sam grimaced.

"Yeah, and it was as bad as it sounds. I don't remember everything that I did, but what I do remember isn't pretty. But Dean made this arrangement with Death, and got my soul back."

"Death?" the Doctor repeated in surprise.

"Yeah. He's one of the four horsemen. Definitely the most powerful thing we've tangled with."

"I should hope so," said the Doctor quietly. "I met him once, a very long time ago…"

He trailed off. That was a memory that he had buried deep, and tried not to revisit.

"But it worked though?" he continued. "Everything's back in order; you're alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine now. It didn't exactly happen overnight though. I was…damaged by hell, and it took Castiel sacrificing his sanity to set me right again. And now here I am, the last man standing.

Oh, how familiar that bitter pain was to the Doctor. He smiled empathetically at Sam, recognizing the survivor's guilt.

"Your brother loved you, Sam," he said gently. "I'm sure he would have wanted you to outlive him."

"Yeah, I know he would," Sam said quietly. "But I think you know that doesn't make it any easier to lose him."

"Oh yes, I know." The Doctor thought back to the last loss that he had suffered, watching the Ponds disappear before his eyes, seeing their names on that old headstone in New York. He also remembered the period of darkness after that loss.

"Is there any way you could help Dean and Cas?" asked Sam hopefully. "You're a time traveller; you could, I don't know, you could pull them out at the last minute, or-"

"The death of Dick Roman is a fixed point in time and space, Sam," said the Doctor gently. "Not even I can meddle with those. If Castiel and your brother were involved, there's nothing I can do. I'm sorry. Believe me, I would help them if I could."

Sam nodded, clearly trying not to let his disappointment show.

"So what are you going to do now, Sam?" the Doctor asked. "How have you been coping?"

"Honestly? I've been running," admitted Sam. "I gave up on my old life, and I just took off."

"And have you found anything worth running to?"

"Not really. I don't hunt anymore, but I just…I don't know. I don't even know why I'm telling you all this."

The Doctor contemplated Sam carefully. He already had Clara, but something about the quiet, serious, ancient young man called out to him. He usually chose companions with no darkness in them, to offset his own inner demons. But Sam was different. There was not a lack of darkness, but rather the acknowledgement of it, the subjugation of it. Whatever darkness resided in his soul, Sam had come to terms with it, and then had conquered it. Perhaps the Doctor needed someone like that around, someone who could show him how to face himself.

"Sam, how would you feel about running _to _something, instead of away from everything?" The Doctor asked eventually.

"What do you mean?"

"I told you I had a time machine, but it's more than that. I can go _anywhere _in time and space, and I can take you with me, if you like."

Sam stared at him.

"Are you serious?" he asked. The Doctor smiled.

"Never knowingly. But I do mean it. There is an entire universe out there, and it is magnificent. I'd be happy to have you along. But you should know, there's a girl named Clara who travels with me as well, and she is merciless." She would be good for him though, as good as she had been for the Doctor. "So what do you say? Would you like to see what's out there? Because there's _so much_, Sam. I've been traveling for over a thousand years, and I still haven't seen a fraction of it. Would you like to join me in seeing some of the rest?"

He found himself hoping very much that Sam would say yes. He did not know when he had gotten so invested in the Winchester family, but it had happened nonetheless. Sam looked around the faded, impersonal motel room and smiled, and the Doctor knew what his answer was going to be.

"It would be my honor, Doctor."

ooooooooooooooooo

"So, where would you like to go first?" asked the Doctor once he had gotten Sam settled in the TARDIS. "How about Myrcarthia? It's a fantastic planet; there are six suns, so it's always sunset, and the mountains are made of glass so they _shine_. The libraries are fantastic too, and the food is…well, the food takes some getting used to, but everything else is great."

"That sounds great Doc, but there's one thing I'd like to see first."

ooooooooooooooooo

"I brought you that cup of coffee."

John Winchester, about to enter his hospital room, whirled around to face his youngest son, who was indeed clutching a steaming Styrofoam cup. It was mostly for dramatic effect though. Sam set it down on a nearby cart and looked down at his father.

"Sammy?" John asked incredulously.

Sam could only imagine what his dad was thinking. He was seven years older than he had been the last time they had seen each other, which had been mere minutes ago for John, and every single one of those years showed on his face. But he could not really care about that at the moment.

This had always been one of his greatest regrets. Not the biggest, certainly, not as bad as betraying Dean or starting the apocalypse, but one that ate at him often. He had not had the easiest relationship with his father, to be sure, but the man had raised him, had loved him in the only way he knew how. And the last words that Sam had said to him had been ones of anger, of hate if he was being honest with himself. He had hated his father for ignoring Dean, for putting hunting the demon in front of his concern for his son. Little had Sam known that John had just come back from selling his soul to said demon in order to bring Dean back.

Sam had never gotten the chance to apologize, to set things right. He had tried, when Cas brought them back to save John and Mary from Anna. He had done his best to make his father understand his feelings without understanding the situation, but even that meager attempt had not been enough. Michael had taken those memories from John. But the Doctor had given him the chance to make better ones.

"Yeah, Dad, it's me."

"What the hell-?"

"It's a pretty complicated situation, even for us," said Sam with a small smile. "Suffice it to say that time travel is possible. The bratty twenty-three year old version of me is still in the hospital, but since you didn't give him the chance to say goodbye, I had to resort to this."

"But you're alright?" asked John after a short pause. "Because I don't know how much older you are, but you look…bad."

Sam knew that his father was not referring to his physical appearance, but to the pain that was probably visible in his demeanor. But he had no intention of telling his dad that Dean was dead. The man had just sold his soul for his son; he should not have to die knowing that the sacrifice was going to be rendered useless in just a few short years.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied. "Listen, Dad, I know now, what you did. I know you sold your soul to bring Dean back, and I couldn't…I couldn't let you die thinking that I hated you."

"Sammy-"

"No, just listen to me for a minute," interrupted Sam. John did not look like he appreciated the order, but he remained silent. "I resented you for a long time, practically my whole life. But I understand now, I understand that you've always done the best you could for us, and when it came down to it, you put us before the job. You were trying to keep us safe in a world of evil, and you succeeded. I wouldn't be here today if you hadn't cared as much as you did. So…thank you, Dad."

It did not feel like enough, but when Sam saw his father's face, he knew that his words had done the job. John had tears in his eyes, and he was looking up at Sam with bemused pride and love, and what looked like relief. He reached up and put a hand on Sam's face.

"You beat him, didn't you, Sammy?" John asked. "You didn't give in; you got out of whatever plans he had for you?"

"Dean didn't have to kill me, if that's what you mean," said Sam, a little disgruntled that the demon was the first thing his father asked about. "We killed yellow-eyes, Dad. It's over."

John pulled Sam into a tight hug.

"Thank God," he whispered. "I knew you were strong enough. I'm glad you're alright, Sammy."

"Yeah, I am, Dad. I'm fine." Sam grimaced, feeling that his father's faith in him had been rather misplaced. Because yeah, they had killed Azazel and stopped the apocalypse, but not before Sam had fallen further than he could ever have imagined.

"And Dean?"

Sam winced. He had really been hoping that his father would not ask about Dean.

"Dean's good too. He saved the world. He's…he's resting now."

John stared up at Sam. He could probably tell that something was wrong, but he evidently decided not to press it. Besides, he had already said everything to Dean that he had wanted to.

"You're, uh, you're probably scared right now," said Sam, glancing towards the door to the hospital room, in which Azazel was waiting. "But just hold on, Dad, because you're gonna make it through it, I swear. You're going to beat hell."

"Yeah?" asked John, looking younger than Sam had ever seen him.

"Yeah. So just stay strong, Dad."

"I will. You too, Sammy." He reached up and put a firm hand on his son's shoulder. "I've always been proud of you. Remember that."

Sam nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He wondered if his father would still be proud if he knew about all of the crap Sam had pulled; drinking demon blood, betraying Dean, starting the apocalypse, murdering innocents while soulless.

"And look after your brother," John added.

"Yeah," Sam choked. "Um…goodbye Dad. Give 'em hell."

John smiled.

"Bye, Sam."

Sam gave his father one last hug, nodding at the older man as the smile slipped from his face and he turned back to the hospital room. Sam waited until he heard the demon take John, then he set off down the hallway, before he could be spotted by his past self. He had promised to meet the Doctor outside of the hospital, but he could not resist making one last stop first.

Even all these years later, Sam remembered exactly where that room was. He remembered with painful clarity the hours that he had spent in uncertainty and terror for his brother. But Dean was fine now, saved from death by their father. And that meant that Sam could see him one last time.

Dean was lying in his hospital bed, looking worried, but alive. Sam was surprised by how much it hurt to see him. It amplified the grief that he had been drowning in since Roman Enterprises.

Sam stared at Dean until he heard a shout from down the hall. He closed his eyes, recognizing the voice as his own. He pressed himself against the wall, watching as Dean ran past him towards the source of the commotion.

Sam knew that it was time for him to leave. He cast one last look at Dean, standing with the younger version of him as the two men watched a team of medical personnel fail to save their father. He felt a stab of jealousy for his other self, because even though that Sam had all kinds of hell to go through, he would get to go through some of it with Dean, something that the elder Sam would never do again.

Tearing his eyes away from his brother, Sam turned and strode down the hallway, towards the promise of a new escape.

* * *

_**A/N: **Thanks for reading! If you don't like John Winchester, sorry, but I hated the way things ended between him and Sam, and I just had to do what I could to fix it. The next chapter will feature both brothers more prominently. I would really appreciate you taking the time to review and let me know what you think._


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